The ringing phone had created a frozen moment in the interrogation room. Everyone suspended in that crystallized instant attention focused on the device in the lawyer's hand, on the name displayed on the screen that had made the lawyer's professional neutrality crack slightly, had made his expression shift in ways that suggested this call was significant, was meaningful, was potentially the final piece in whatever puzzle was being assembled around the complete destruction of Marcus Chen's position. The lawyer the senior partner, the one with graying temples and decades of experience written into the lines around his eyes looked at the screen for just a moment longer. Processing, Calculating. His thumb moved—deliberate motion, accepting the call, bringing the phone to his ear with a movement that was practiced, professional, but that carried within it a subtle tension that suggested he knew this conversation was going to be difficult, was going to be significant, was going to change

He was fully committed to the narrative now had constructed an alternate reality where he and David were the victims, where law enforcement and Raymond were the villains, where everything that was happening was persecution rather than prosecution, was politically motivated attack rather than simple consequence of documented crimes."And they are going to pay for all of these things that they are doing," Marcus continued, his voice climbing toward something approaching a shout. "For even arresting my son. For bringing him here. For treating him like a criminal when he's clearly the victim. For the physical and emotional trauma they've inflicted. For the damage to his reputation and our family's standing. They are going to pay severely for it. Financially. Professionally. We're going to destroy their careers the way they're trying to destroy my son."He paused—breathing heavily, his chest heaving from the exertion of his tirade, his eyes bright with fury and vindictive anticipation, cle

No one answered Marcus.Not immediately.Not even after he declared, with all the force he could gather, that he had lawyers and that he was going to call them.The room simply fell silent.The Chief stood beside the table, his arms folded across his chest, watching Marcus with the patience of a man who had already seen this performance many times. Detective Morrison remained near the wall, his expression unreadable, though his eyes followed every movement Marcus made. Raymond stood a short distance away, calm but visibly irritated, his attention fixed on Marcus as if he were watching a man attempt to hold back a flood with his bare hands.David, still restrained to the table, stared at his father.There was fear in his eyes.Not the fear he had displayed earlier when he was angry or confused. This was different. It was deeper. It had settled into him. It had reached a place where even his father's confidence could no longer conceal the possibility that everything might truly be falli

Marcus barely heard him.His attention had shifted to the message notifications.The phone vibrated again.A new message arrived from his secretary.**Sir, please call me as soon as possible. It is urgent.**Another followed.**The party office is asking for a statement.**Then another.**Several news outlets are running the story.**Marcus’s face became rigid.Otá heard the silence.“Have you checked the news yet?” he asked.Marcus did not answer.“Mr. Marcus?”“I am still here.”“Then listen carefully. Whatever you do next, do not threaten anyone. Do not make public statements without legal advice. Do not call officials and demand that they intervene. Do not contact the victims or their families. Do not send anyone to pressure witnesses.”Marcus’s eyes hardened.“You are still giving me instructions?”“I am trying to prevent you from committing another offense.”“You think I am going to sit quietly while my son is destroyed?”“I think you should stop trying to control everything.”“

At that moment, upon hearing what his son had just said and seeing the hopelessness in David’s face, Marcus felt something inside him twist violently. Until then, anger had been burning in him in scattered directions—toward the police, toward the chief, toward Raymond, toward the lawyers who had abandoned him, and toward the entire humiliating situation that had turned against him so quickly. But now, all of that fury narrowed into one sharp, bitter thought.This is because of David.His chest rose and fell heavily as he stared at his son. His face tightened, and for a brief second, the fatherly composure he had been trying so hard to maintain cracked badly. He could not believe that his life, his carefully built career, his influence, his power, and everything he had spent years protecting was now turning upside down because of one reckless, rotten boy who had refused to control himself.Inside his mind, Marcus was raging."What the hell has this bastard done?""What the hell is wron